


The Detour

by belivaird_st



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:04:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21850432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belivaird_st/pseuds/belivaird_st
Summary: Carol takes the backroads to let her family see some reindeer.
Relationships: Carol Aird/Therese Belivet
Kudos: 35





	The Detour

Therese picked up Rindy and carried her toward the reindeer behind the fenced off snow covered cow field. Carol stayed behind to help Jennifer Aird out of the car. Harge’s mother rose up on her feet and shivered beneath the fur neck lavender coat she wore for the afternoon. 

“I thought you said we were going straight into town? This isn’t Market Street,” Jennifer stated sourly, sliding both her hands further into her purple fur muff. She gave her daughter-in-law a betrayed, piercing look. Her eyes could melt ice. 

“I’ve made a detour on the way,” Carol spoke gently. She placed one leather gloved hand on the older woman’s back, showing her the view of the farm where they could easily see the tiny bodies of Therese and Rindy with a dairy farmer and his small round of reindeer wearing red velvet bows and silver bell collars for the holiday occasion.

“Are they really Santa’s reindeer?” Rindy was asking the farmer. Her breath was floating in the air from the cold.

“They’re cousins of his famous ones,” the farmer explained, readjusting his ear flap hat. “Santa’s reindeer can’t be here, because they are at the North Pole.” He started rummaging through his hunter’s jacket pocket. “Would you like to feed ‘em, young lady?” he handed over four cubes of sugar.

“What do we say...?” Therese squinted through the bright sunshine, not minding the wind blowing her coiffed hair around. 

“Thank you,” Rindy recited. Therese brought her toward the caribou. She supervised her safety and made sure all was right between them.

Carol and Jennifer finally caught up across the field. Harge’s mother stood far away, shivering, uncontrollably. 

“Rindy, not so close,” she warned her only grandchild. “Be careful!”

“She’s fine,” Carol said. 

As if to agree, the animal snorted from his nostrils before licking the sugary cube right off the palm of Rindy’s hand with his tongue.


End file.
